The Illness: A Saga in Four Parts
by HarlequinHorrors
Summary: Discover the life of Emilee who after reminising about her dark family past goes mad.
1. The Spirits

**Section One-The Spirits**

I wake with a start.

It is four 'o clock in the morning.

Far too early for anyone to even think about getting up and moving around.

I miserably get out of bed and decide to make some of my favourite pomegranate tea that my cousin brought me from her travels abroad. It usually soothes me enough to get me back into bed for a few hours, at least until sunrise. At the time I am taking the steaming kettle off the stove, I hear a sound near the door. Who would be knocking this early in the morning? I wonder.

Fear taking over me, I scrambled back into my bedroom and covered under the large wool comforter. After the loss of my husband, I had been running this house on my own for the past few years, everything was scaring me lately.

The noise eventually stopped, but my mix of paranoia and curiosity had not. I tried to tell myself that it was just the wind, and closed my eyes. The noise returned, this time along with a loud meowing noise. I figured it was a cat, but it could also be a killer mimicking a noise just to get you to open the door, then, they take you, molest you, and leave you on the streets to die; sometimes with child.

I decided that I would not take any chances, so I closed all my blinds, made sure all of my doors were locked, and went up into the room right next to the attic. This room was the one that everyone in my family called the 'room for depressing news' because of the dull, grey-aqua wallpaper with faded ducks on it. If I ever had the chance to have a child of my own, this would be the perfect room, that is, with some fixing-up. I was sure that the wallpaper could be restored to the original, jolly blue with vibrant yellow ducks waddling about the border, like when I was a child.

_When you were a child…when you were a child…_

My mind whispers this to me. When I was a child, I was always told that I was never going to get through life without having to experience rape or abuse. I was told that I was just to pretty, and with that I was forced to be locked up in this room, for days on end, either reading or working on my sewing. My father supplied the abuse for me, saying that I had to figure out rape for myself. He killed my mother, saying that she was a waste of time and energy, which made me mad enough to lose all trust in men.

This very room was also the one that I came to when I was feeling the sorrow of the death of my own husband. I did not hesitate to draw on the walls, break the glass, and scream, scream as loud as I wanted.

I saw the sun peeking its tired head over the horizon, I looked down out of the window to see that people were out on the street. I had not been out of my house for many days, so I decided to go down into town to visit my sister's home and dress shop.

I stepped down the stairs of the front of my home, just to realize that the noise had been a cat all along, there had nothing to be afraid of earlier this morning. I walked the two blocks it took to get to my sister's home and shop, looking at the merry nature despite the gray sky and cool air. It smelled like fall, the carriages with horses trotted down the roads, and people were happy all around me. This was surely the right day to finally step out of my home.

As I got to my sister's house and opened the door, I was quick to notice that the whole interior was all a-bustle with customers ordering new outfits for the upcoming holiday season.

"Veronica? Do you have a moment?" I asked, through the crowd

"Emilee? Is that you?" she asked, baffled.

"Yes, it is me." Was my reply.

I watched as she shooed the people away from her busy desk, yelling, 'we are closed now, come another day!' after she finished, she turned to face me, blonde hair glowing around her pale face.

"Why, Emilee, it has been such a long time!" she beamed.

"It has, hasn't it?" I answered back.

"Well, don't just stand there in the doorway, come in, come in!"

I watched as she waved her hand daintily, gesturing to the chair and table in front of her. The table was a beautiful shade of brown, and the chairs had the prettiest carvings of flowers that had faeries making merry love in between the vines and stems. The fabric on the chairs were a beautiful, rich shade of ivy green.

Sitting at one of the chairs and scooting it toward the table, I saw her bring out a platter of crumpets, accompanied by a full silver pot of what appeared to be pomegranate tea. She sat the platter in the center of the table and sat next to me; the vibrant yellow and red of her dress made me come to realize that I was-and had been-dressed very somberly for the past few years of my life. In fact, the color in her home made my appearance, which consisted of pale skin, dark hair, onyx eyes, and a darker-palette dress, look like a dark grey rain cloud that hovered over the sky on a gloomy day.

"How have you been, my dear sister?" her sunny voice asked me, full of cheer.

"Very nice, it is good to get out of the home once and a while, take a break from the books, and finally see something that is not black and white, but true color." I replied, trying to hide the fact that I had, in actuality, felt quite anxious.

"I absolutely adore the fact that you are now thinking brightly. I now see a side of you that I have not seen in a very long time."

"So, have you had anything new come up in your life?"

"Not so much new, but drifts of the old. I was indeed very shocked to find you at my doorstep today."

"I was shocked that my legs still had the will to leave my home!" I took another sip of my tea.

There was a knock at the window, what could it be? I had to figure out somehow, but I told myself that I would have the will to stay by and visit with my sister. Yet that sound was frightening me..

"I see that you have acknowledged the presence of my new friend." She said with a cheery tone in her voice.

"Your…your new friend?" I asked, cautious.

"Oh yes! Have I not told you about Benjamin?"

Benjamin? Who was Benjamin? Was he the ghost of one of the people whom had died in this house long ago? Was he a killer who sought shelter in the home of my sister? Was he lethal in any way?

I snapped out of what seemed like the millionth trance that day and silenced my restless mind. How dare I think those thoughts on such a sunny day? I figured out who Benjamin was as I saw a small white nose poking out of the side of the door. A small white kitten entered the room.

"Is he sanitary?" was the first thing I asked.

"Of course he is, Emilee!" she replied.

"May I hold him?"

"I would be insulted if you didn't! He is such a baby, always longing for attention."

I picked him up and felt the soft white fur in-between my fingers. He let out a little squeak that would soon become a meow, a growl, a hiss. His little claws dug into my hand, and I let out a small gasp of pain as I put him down onto the wood floor.

"Did he hurt you?" came Veronica's worried voice

"No, he only left a small scratch." Was my reply.

There was a knock on her door, perhaps a customer coming to order a dress. I looked at the clock; I had been over there for over two hours. No wonder people were waiting at her door! I decided that I should leave if I were to make it home by dusk.

I slowly walked out the door and bid my dear sister good-bye. She waved as I walked out of the door and let in a rush of about seven people.

As I walked down the street and up the stairs to my home, I looked out and silently said good-bye to the outdoors. The sky and its pretty blue color, the birds that tweedle-deed their morning hellos to everybody in the early hours, and the pretty trees, whom had turned a lovely shade of yellow, red, and orange.

I, unlocking my door, stepped inside, and looked at all the things that laid before me.

First of all, the kitchen was a mess. It had not been cleaned in days. The other rooms seemed okay, yes, they looked okay. But there was a small, small, stain on one of the table cloths. I had to clean that up, too. I, deciding that I was too rattled to clean, went into the bathroom and drew myself a nice, hot bath to soothe my mind.

After what had seemed, and turned out to be, an incredibly long time, I stepped out of the tub, dried myself, and looked at my large grandfather clock to find that the time was just after eleven p.m. I went to my room, turned on the light, and shed the skirt, bodice, petticoats, and corset that surrounded my being until I was only in my underclothes. I slept like that for what remained of the long, dark night.

As always, I awoke at four o' clock a.m. exactly. Not four o' one, not three fifty-nine, but four o' clock. I stepped into a dress, not exactly sure what one it was, and went to prepare breakfast. But I had forgotten one small process; I had forgotten to wash up first. I moved my body into the bathroom, quickly and quietly, so that the others would not see me moving about so early in the morning.

My hair suddenly does not look right, so I hack it all off, one piece by one piece, hacking it all off. I am also very hurt by my actions, so I take the point of my scissors to my wrist, my hips, my arm. A person appears in the mirror, I try to shake the horrid image away. It is no one, it is my mind, my overtired, over thinking mind! The image speaks to me, I speak to it, too, it makes me hurt.

_All of the things that hurt, all of the things that die, just like my mother…_

Tears pouring from my eyes, I hurl my hand at the mirror with all of my strength. The glass shattering all over my arm, blood gushing from my hand. In panic, I wipe it on the carpet and use some toilet tissue to create some type of wrap for my hand. I shall go to a doctor either today or tomorrow, whichever is the safest. Tomorrow is a Sunday, Sunday is a safe day, I shall go then. For now, I must get breakfast ready for the unhappy guests that are greeting me.

I feel a push at my back. My father is coming back to get the revenge he said he would have. I grab a knife, taking a swing at the spirit whom is after me, with no avail, he is still there. I feel the comfort of my husband around me, the only gentleman I ever put any trust in, he is dead. They are all dead. I am the only survivor.

_It is all right, it is all safe, he is dead now, nothing to worry, he is gone, he is not here…_

That is all a lie, all a lie! They are still here! All of them! I feel them in the air around me. I see my mother and my other sister. I see them happily sewing in this very dining room, making conversation. The old man walks in, drunk as ever.

He hits me first, of course. Then he goes for the others, I run to protect them, but I only get dragged by the collar into the blue wallpapered room and the door is locked. This is the one time where I go without food for two days. Once he finally leaves again, I step out to find the severed limbs of my mother and sister. I take up the unfinished stitchery and put it in my room to finish myself. I pick up a couple of rolls that were left on the counter and take them back to the room where I eat and eat, but feel only emptiness as I curl up into a ball, a pitiful lump on the floor, and sleep as heavily as the dead.

Here it is again, I do not wake at four o' clock am this time, but I wake at four o' clock pm. It is a miserable routine that MUST stop soon. I am still sitting in the aqua room, awaiting my beating, if any; if I am not left alone forever. I sit as still as a tiger waiting to catch its prey, but I feel more like prey that is about to be eaten. I decide to work on the sewing that my mother and sister left me. Goodness, did they choose dark topics to tell about! One is a skeleton, the other a corpse with a rose lying upon its breast, how morbid.

As I fix up the patterns and the weaving, the figure of my father walks not into, but through the door. I wonder how he has done this. The only powers he ever had to any of us were the power of a fist and a paddle. He is sure to be a witch. I scream and scream until he finally leaves my presence.

I step out of the room and move, quickly and quietly, to the living room and sit down on the couch and start a book. The book clears my mind, and the sleep finally tries to take over me yet again. I am dozing off as I look in the glass of the grandfather clock. I see my mother. She is sitting there, her big eyes shining, as if she has just received a wonderful gift from a friend.

_It is all over, you are safe…you are safe, rest…_

No. No, no, no, no! Not them again! I take up the book and use my strongest arm to whip it into the clock many times, bawling as I do so. The clock is shattered into many small pieces. The spirits are sure to be gone now! They must be! There is nothing left of my house to remind me of them. They are gone. Just to make sure they are gone, I decide to ask Veronica if I can stay the night at her home.

Walking through the night is frightening to me. The trees whistle and dance their nightly song, the water from the brook spits and spatters on the bank. I am very cold. I knock on her door, she comes to it, yawning.

"May I stay at your house for tonight?" I ask

"You may," she yawns, "do you have any idea what time it is?"

"No, mother made me destroy the clock" I reply

"You are so tired that you are talking nonsense! Get inside and warm yourself!"

I have always adored my sister's motherliness. It is what makes her so inviting. It is probably why she is such a successful seamstress. She sits me down with a blanket and some coacoa; she takes one look at my hacked up hair and questions what I do in my spare time.

"Father made me cut it" was all I could mutter

"Father is dead" she says

"No, he is not. He is still alive in the house."

"He has been dead for many years, my dear sister"

"He still scares me. He tells me that we are all worthless. He is making me cut my hair."

She holds me, her touch comforting. I feel warmer in her embrace, I have found out how incredibly cold I actually was.

"I think what you need is some good night's sleep."

With that, she leads me into my room and I sit on the bed, she sits a glass of water by the bedside and shuts off the light. I curl up in the thick blankets and close my eyes.


	2. The Memories

**Section Two-The Memories**

_No, no, I am dreaming, I am dreaming, wake up, wake up. I am sitting in a hospital bed, the doctor is trying to shove a needle into my arm. I am thrashing, I am in the dreaded place, the hospital, no, not the hospital, it is different than a hospital, it is a sanatorium. What am I doing in a sanatorium? I am sane, aren't I? I am healthy, aren't I? So why am I here?_

"_We haven't the money for an actual hospital, Emilee." That is the sound of my mother's voice_

"_Ten seconds" I hear the doctor on the other side of me, holding the needle in._

_Ten seconds for what? I wonder, for what? What are they doing to me that is going to take ten seconds? Are they going to kill me? This is a sanatorium, a place where people die, are these my final seconds of life?_

_I blank out. I have no idea what is happening, but I must be dreaming. I cannot see, the doctors think I am asleep, but I am not. I cannot wake up yet I can hear and feel everything. Is that a knife near my head?_

_I scream._

_"Wake her." I hear someone other than a doctor, perhaps an assistant?_

_I am up in a flash, I begin crying. I tell the doctors all of what happened to me, and how frightening it was. The next thing I hear is,_

_"Sedate her"_

_Why are they sedating me? Why are they wrapping a white jacket around me? I know that I have always been a little different, but I heard that that was what made all humans unique. I am being dropped into a padded cell, I do not have the slightest idea of what is going on._

I wake up. I am relieved to find that this was just a dream. A dream reminiscent of the stories that I heard about asylums and sanatoriums at the University; it was all just a dream. I slip back into sleep, and try to think about unicorns or sheep, something to keep my mind occupied.

_The dream returns to the padded cell. A doctor comes to take me into another room, all I want to do is sit and think and forget all the bad memories of the medicine, the anesthesia. He carries me away anyway. I thrash, kick, and scream. He puts me into a straitjacket and sits me in a chair that is just outside the office._

_The doctor steps out of his office, which appears to be a pale white color, just like the rest of this place. He begins to look up my skirt. I have heard of these doctors, the ones that get kicks out of raping the female patients. A rat skitters past my skirt and I look down to touch it, the guard who dropped me off slaps my hand away._

_The doctor appears to be done, he stands up and walks off, I still must be sedated for I do nothing but sit there. Yes, sit there, and stare into an empty, blank space._

I wake again, thanking God that I am not actually there. I look at the clock in my room and see that it is four o' clock. Here I went with the same routine. The terrible truth was, I was getting used to it. I stepped out of bed and went into her kitchen to get breakfast for the both of us. As I step into the empty hallway, a rat goes by my feet, bringing back all of the terrible dreams.

I scream despite myself. This was one scream that I had never uttered before, one that I had never heard. It was the sound of sheer terror. I clapped a hand to my mouth to muffle the sound and not wake my sister, it is too late, and she is rushing down the hallway.

"What is wrong, dearie?" she asks in that sweet voice of hers.

"R-rat…" I say

"It is only a little mousie," she says.

I sit in the corner and rock back and forth, clutching my knees to my breast. I am singing a song I had heard long ago, I cannot remember where, but just a place, long ago…

_What do you do with a scurvy pirate, take out his brain and then re-wire it, what do you do with a scurvy pirate, make him raving MAD!_

Where had a heard that song? It was sung to me many, many years ago,who had thought it up? Then it comes to me, I had heard it in the sanatorium, I had had a lobotomy, and the girl in the recovery bed next to me sang it all of the time. She called me—and herself, for that matter—pirates. It was all coming back in the forms of memories. I had to mask it. I had to. There was no way I would ever go back there again, ever! It had more rats than an abandoned kitchen, and it was crawling with disease. I had to stay here.

But it was too late. I heard my sister talking to someone in the other room. I knew it was her voice, I knew the other voice was one of someone official, a doctor. I knew that I was going to be carried off again, forced to breathe gas and be put to sleep. Next thing I know, I have a straitjacket around me.

I thrash and kick as I am carried out of the safe heaven that I came to know as my sister's house. The house I loved. The house that was new, the one with no bad memories.

I am placed into a truck and look out the window as I am carted off. I see all of the people just staring at me, some with sadness in their eyes, others with the emotion of pure hate. Some who look at me as if I were a monster, I am a monster, there is no hiding it anymore, I am a monster.

We pull up to what I have concluded was an asylum, a crazy house. But it does not look like the one that I have seen in my memories. It is bigger, perhaps? Maybe they got some add-ons? I take a closer look, I realize that this is indeed not the one that I was in while those memories plagued me. The carriage takes me past the sign, which clearly reads-

BETHLEM ROYAL HOSPITAL

It was obvious that I was not just mildly ill anymore; I could picture myself, being tied to a bed for the rest of my life, living in madness. I go in, and watch as terror engulfs me.

I am first sat in an office that looks like it has not been used in years, then a doctor comes to me and begins to ask me questions, hard questions.

"How long have you been insane?"

"I have no idea"

"Why are you insane?"

"_Little bunny fufu, walking through the forest, picking up the beetle bugs and kissed them on the head!"_ I giggled at the joy of my singing.

They put me back in the wheel chair, or whatever it was, and rolled me down the long hallway. I looked at a sign just above the intersection where two hallways came together, I read it carefully, taking in every word.

LADIES

I was certainly not going to the bathroom. This must be the way they categorized the vast number of inmates they had in here, by gender, gender and nothing more. Then we came to another intersection, there was another sign, bolted to the wall this time, that read,

INCURABLE

Was I really that bad? I had no idea that there were incurable crazies. Or, perhaps, I will get a room all to myself, because that is just how awful I am. I picture myself being in the circus. In a sideshow. As the worlds only human that could not be cured of insanity.

I see us turn another corner and go down a large ramp. The ramp looked like a body tunnel. Where had I seen a body tunnel before?

"_Girls, we are going to visit your cousin today. He is very sick in the hospital, he needs special care."_

_I see us stepping down a hallway into his room, he is weak and very ill-looking. He looks like a mummy, perhaps a zombie, who has risen from the dead to find his prey. I know he is not, for he greets me with a big smile, despite his hollowed cheeks, bony arms, and paper-white skin._

_He looks at me, his big grin widening. He looks ornery, like he is playing a fun game of hide and seeks. The first words he says are enough to make me run away from that room forever, without the intention of ever going back._

"_I shall die here; there is nothing the doctors can do."_

_This is what makes me run away. Further, further, further down the hall until I come to a stopping point, I am safe. There is a door in front of me, is it a freezer? Maybe I have run to the kitchen, where there is no sickness, only food and warmth. I decide to open the door._

_Peeking inside, I see not meat being stored, but human bodies! What in the world would the doctor want with dead bodies that had blood billowing out of their mouths? I slam the door shut and make a mad dash down the hall, turn a corner, and run down three flights of steps. _

_At the end of these steps is another long hallway, it is unlit, I believe it is because I am possibly in the basement. I grab a candle out of one of the brass rings on the wall and walk down the long tunnel, which slopes down very severely for a passageway, until I step on something. It is a human head, blood coming out of the mouth. I run out, screaming. My mother takes me in her arms._

I am dropped into my cell. It looks like a big white box; a big white box with a barred, gothic-style, window. I see three more girls sitting in each corner, they stare at me like I am a new toy. One of them, who had lovely blonde hair and dark brown eyes, gets up on all fours and reaches up to touch me, then squirms back, returning to her corner.

I go to sit near one of the other girls, but she also crawls away. I turn my head to the corner across from me, the girl in that corner's eyes are wide open, staring emptily at the ceiling. I decide to follow the suit of the other girls and I crawl over to her and touch her face, her skin is so cold, is she that frightened of me? Did I create that bad of a panic? I turn her over so that she is facing me. Her lips are blue, she is dead; dead from what? I am unsure. But I cannot handle it. I let out a blood-curdling scream of terror, of death.

Footsteps are racing down the hallway, coming for me; they are going to kill me! I just know it! I hide in the corner with the dead girl in my arms.

The doctor bursts through the door, the expression on his face calm, his big blue eyes expressionless. He turns to me, who is cowering in the corner, curled over the dead girl. He leans toward me, he smells good, like a flower, I picture a blue flower to hide my fear. He simply picks up the girl and turns to the door, he walks out.

"I guessed we used too much" he says, out in the hallway.

Too much of what? Instead of molesting us, are they looking for other ways to torture us? I remember the look on that girls eyes, she was scared when she died, terrified, in fact; too scared to breathe. One of the girls, the one with the blonde hair, taps my shoulder.

"He-hello, who are you?" her voice is quiet and timid, she is a mouse.

"I am Emilee" I whisper back

"Do you know what you were diagnosed with?" she asks

"No, I do not. All I know is that I am incurable."

"W-why did-uh-you, Emilee, come here?"

"My dead father abused me; I took refuge with my sister, a re-wired brain…"

"You had a lobotomy?"

"Perhaps, I do not remember"

"We have tea and recreation in an hour, thank goodness they do not know about the missing brain part. Meet me in the tea room in an hour."

I did as she told me and went to the tea room precisely an hour after she told me while we were having free time outside of our cells. I walked down the series of long, dark hallways until I found the tea room, marked with chipping paint and a sign above the door frame. She sat at a table encircled by five other girls, none of which I had ever seen. The table was lovely, despite the horrid room, and the tea cups and saucers were made of beautiful white porcelain and were rimmed with gold. Each cup had a small, soft pink heart on the handle, in which was dodged by the pinky finger. I stepped forward and took a seat at one of the dark, wooden chairs with rose-colored fabric and a daisy carved into the top of it.

As I was sitting down, the girl whom I met in my cell plunked down a cup in front of me. Was that pomegranate I smelled? My favorite tea? The one that I had grown accustomed to over the past few years? How did they know?

"Greetings" the girl said, "I, even though I am part of your cell, have not yet introduced myself, I am Carminedi."

Carminedi, what an unusual name, but how beautiful. I continued to listen to what she was saying. She seemed to be the leader of this group, much unlike the girl I saw in the cell. She was so confident, so, so sane. Why was she here, and not at her home?

"I have to introduce you girls to our new member, Emilee. It is Emilee, right?" she asked.

"Yes, I am Emilee, delighted to be here."

The girls at the table just looked at me as though I were an animal at the zoo, a fiend. Was it my ill-kept hair, my scarred arms and legs, my hollow cheeks, pale skin? Were they just delighted to find a new friend? I was unsure how to react to this; I sat still and continued listening.

"I was wondering if we would all like to tell her our stories." Carminedi asked

"A charming idea, Carmine." One of the other girls chimed in.

This girl had bright red hair and big green eyes. She looked like an actress or a singer, not an insane person. Her hair looked silky enough to sleep in, her eyes deep, undiscovered forests. She was flawless despite the dark sleep that encircled her eyes, making them appear hollow and sickly, but yet mysterious and beautiful.

"Emilee, your name is, right?" she asked.

"Yes, it is Emilee."

"Do you have a last name?"

"No, I'm just Emilee. I am not entirely sure of my last name at the moment."

"Alright then, Emilee, just Emilee, I am Samantha." She held out a hand, I took it and shook it lightly, "would you care to hear how I got here?"

"Only if you wish to tell, I do not want to push anything that you do not remember."

I look into her hollow eyes. They are so full of sadness, I wish to see her happy, I want those eyes to smile. I hear the other girls in the wing lining up to go back to the cells, we all leave our tea and head out of the door. I turn my head to hear a screaming sound at the end of the hall; a girl is having a breakdown. I see the same doctor who carried the dead girl out of my arms come to the group that is standing around the girl, on the floor, bawling. He takes her by the arm and takes her down the hall, others follow. I cannot control my curiosity; I creep along the floor with the crowd.

He is shooing them all away. I stay to watch. When I feel as if I am in sight, I hide behind a big, heavy open door. I see him walk into another room with the girl and close the door. I walk up to the door and peek inside; he is sitting at a chair, the other girl sitting across from him. He sits her on a chair that appears to be one of a dentist, and gets a needle out from a drawer. He looks at the needle for a moment, and then shakes his head. There is something wrong with it, and he is going to fix it. He walks to the other end of the room and gets a machine that looks a lot like a robot in one of the illustrations in one of the books I read. He turns on the robot, then, ever so slightly, he places it over the girl's mouth, she begins to laugh uncontrollably, then he, just as carefully as the gas, injects the needle into the girl's neck. She stops moving. I move behind the door where I was hiding previously when I saw him turn to open the door.

He looks down the hallway, the girl lying asleep in his arms. He calls down the hall to one of the doctors. The doctor runs up to him, a look of surprise on his face.

"What is the matter, sir?" the doctor asks.

"We, unfortunately, need to find a grave for the poor dear, the medicine was too much. I tried to fix her, I really did. I guess even the most educated cannot treat the 'untreatable'" replied the doctor with the girl in his arms.

"Very well, then, a grave for the miss. It seems we are losing many to this new medication."

"I shall do more tests on the mixture."

They walk off. I just saw a doctor take a human life. Nothing is safe in the wing that I am in, nothing! I make a mad dash for my cell so I can be safe with my room mates again.


End file.
